


then it's time I speak my mind (you can't take that away)

by mrobrotzly



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (sort of), Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BAMF Jaskier | Dandelion, Blow Jobs, Bottom Jaskier | Dandelion, Cursed Jaskier | Dandelion, Emotionally Constipated Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Rimming, Top Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-17
Updated: 2020-08-17
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:21:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,177
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25945027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrobrotzly/pseuds/mrobrotzly
Summary: [...] Obviously, with his luck, the man had to be a sorcerer and a sorcerer very insecure about some of his features. Especially about his voice. Voice that the bard called "the cry of a harpy if it was being crushed by a griffin and begging for death".But it's still a cruel curse. Stingy too: If you don't like my voice, then I'll make you unable to hear it.And unable to hear any other voice.Yours included. [...]
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 7
Kudos: 355





	then it's time I speak my mind (you can't take that away)

**Author's Note:**

> english is not my first language, if you find a mistake here just tell me and i'll do my best to correct this
> 
> Hope you enjoy it ♡
> 
> TW: some characters are bigots and end up in a fight with Jaskier, but the only thing they say to him is "Freak" and the fight is not graphic.  
> Brief mention of blood from an injury on Jaskier's lip.

Jaskier wasn't someone lucky

In all these years, of all the threats he have faced, all the times he had to lift the dagger he hid in his boots, jump out of windows, run from angry husbands or wifes, or even fathers, all the monsters he saw - but not too close since there was always a Witcher between them - Jaskier never thought that what would bring him so much dispair would be magic.

Obviously he knew sorcerers - unfortunately - and he knew how cruel and even sadistic they could be. He just didn't think he would be on the wrong side of that metaphoric sword.

He was almost, _almost_ , relieved that Geralt wasn't around, considering that the current cause of his problems was none other than the simple fact that the bard couldn't shut up!

But it was cruel.

Very cruel.

In his defense, he was drunk, he'd been drunk most of the time since he that damn dragon hunt. Just because he's a bard and sang about feelings doesn't mean he wanted and had the courage to face his own. Dwell on the reasons for having been practically thrown away by the only person he considered his true friend and blame himself for having hopes that maybe Geralt cares, that maybe something, anything, was reciprocated, wouldn't help.

The wine helped.

When a man came to sit at his table in a tavern that smelled slightly unpleasant, making small talk and trying to flirt, Jaskier thought it would be a good idea to return the attention.

And it was, at first, maybe he'll finally have an evening with good company and a body that would make him forget past events... 

Until the man started asking him about a certain Witcher. A certain Witcher that he didn't even want to hear the name, much less from someone he's trying to take to his bed. Let alone calling him "The Witcher's Bard."

Maybe, but just maybe, he was a little rude, too much alcohol in his blood, his tongue looser than it should. Perhaps he said too much and said some things that wouldn't be nice if put into poetry.

Some swear words that would make a sailor proud, but don't have such a positive effect on the man who was with him.

Whenever Jaskier remembers about this, he wants to punch a wall or his own face. Or both.

Obviously, with his luck, the man had to be a sorcerer and a sorcerer very insecure about some of his features. Especially about his voice. Voice that the bard called "the cry of a harpy if it was being crushed by a griffin and begging for death".

But it's still a cruel curse. Stingy too: _If you don't like my voice, then I'll make you unable to hear it._

And unable to hear any other voice.

Yours included.

He felt the curse at the same moment the sorcerer showed his palms towards him and he still remembered the evil smile the man gave.

Suddenly the world around him was silent. The laughter of the already too drunk people, the protests of someone who was clearly the loser in a game of Gwent, the cry of a baby - really? wasn't it time for a child to sleep? - all of it.

Silence.

He panicked and admits that it wasn't beautiful to see, he tried to grab the sorcerer, tried to pull his dagger and succeeded, but at the moment the words of threat, asking to lift the curse, came out of his mouth and he couldn't hear his own voice... his body froze, the man - still smiling, that bastard - managed to escape.

He locked himself in his room and, in the next day, left the civilization as soon as possible.

It was uncomfortable, seeing that people made so many sounds and not being able to hear any.

Well, he could hear a few things. Nature, birds, water flowing in a river, his lute - or at least he thought he could, or maybe he knew the chords so well that his mind projected the sound.

He wouldn't be concerned if he'd lost his hearing naturally, probably due to old age, it's a possibility in human life, but the sensation of something artificial and magical prowling his mind, acting like a barrier, it was awful. Creepy.

He went after mages to undo the spell, but none of them were willing to do the job without receiving an absurd amount of coin and, gods, that was the worst part:

He didn't sing anymore.

He'd songs that he could play even asleep, but talking without being able to hear his own voice bothered him, singing would be worse, so until he got used to the idea, he would have to settle for the little coin he made selling the fur of the small animals that he occasionally managed to hunt.

It was difficult at first, being a bard playing and singing is what people expect you to do and he knew that if he showed up somewhere where he's recognized, trying to explain what happened would be a headache. So Jaskier avoided big cities, travelling to villages that often didn't even have a decent inn.

He tried to stay out of sight, hiding in corners and doing everything to avoid being associate with the bard who once traveled with the White Wolf.

Two months went by and he finally thought about using his voice again, not to sing, but to, who knows, get someone to buy him drinks and save him from a lonely night.

Jaskier was seeing which doublet was less faded or dirty and, even with a twinge in his heart, he chose the red one he hadn't worn in a while. He's determined to look as incredible as possible and in his mind he repeated over and over: find someone who seem interested, use your voice and mention that you can't hear them, but that something or other you can read in their lips, flirt, drink wine, a few touches here and there and bingo one night without feeling worse than a pile of kikimora shit.

He'll do this, how difficult could it be?

It was difficult.

And seriously, he spent years of his life with a Witcher, he should have considered that.

People are _assholes._

And if you're even a little different from what they consider normal, it's like a scandal.

Whenever he said he couldn't hear it was either a look of disdain or pity and he felt his blood boil. His being like this wasn't natural, but what if it was? What if he was born this way? Would people treat him badly just for existing?

Suddenly the idea of punching someone in the face was tempting. He sat in a corner of the tavern, and would laugh at having chosen a place _so Geralt,_ to stay away since he was furious at the world's injustice.

He was so lost thinking of composing an entire manifesto on the topic that he didn't notice the surroundings. He didn't realize it until he decided to leave the tavern and return to the inn.

Three men followed him and at first Jaskier was unaware of this, apparently the curse also included footsteps, but passing through a lantern he could see the reflected shadow of one of them.

He suppressed a grunt, closed his eyes and turned slowly.

He recognized one of the men as someone he tried to seduce, one who almost spat in his face, the other two were twins who he also recognized because they're drawing a lot of attention. Really? The three could have a decent night with company - one being Jaskier himself - but decided to be bigots instead?

"Gentlemen," he said, trying not to show how uncomfortable he's at not hearing his own voice. "If it's company you want, I'm afraid you missed the chance, it's past my bedtime."

He tried to understand the answers. Something like "shut up" and "freak" and something that looked a lot like "raspberry", but considering the situation, maybe he was wrong.

He rolled his eyes. And that didn't make his new friends happy.

One of the twins approached, trying to pull him by the doublet, but Jaskier was faster and dodged - half a life traveling made him more agile than people thought he was. Stronger too. He took the man by surprise with a left hook on his guts while smiling contentedly.

But it was three against one and soon the other men joined the fight. They hit him more than he would like - he would like it to be zero times - but he apparently managed to break the nose of the man who flirted with him earlier, so it was worth it.

The man cursed, his hand on his face, he's momentarily out of the fight and the twins were big so it's easy to dodge some blows, but it's hard to hit them.

It was a kick in the stomach that made him lose strength and topple forward, falling to his knees. The man he broke the nose approached, pulling on his hair to make him look. Jaskier grunted, the man shouted something, but he wasn't in the mood to try to understand what.

He was _anger._

All he wanted was a pleasant evening, someone to exchange heat and then a good night's sleep.

Damn village and damn people who lived in it.

He was _furious._

So much that he didn't think straight about his next move, he quickly pulled the dagger from his boot and stuck it in the man's thigh.

He wanted to be able to hear the scream.

After that it was easy to escape, the twins too surprised to go after him while the third man wrapped his hand around the dagger's hem without knowing whether to take it off or not. Shit, he lost a good dagger - it was his only regret.

Blood pounding in his ears, panting and his heart racing, he kept running even though he knew no one would come after him. He was close to the inn.

At least a good night's sleep he could get.

Wrong again.

He felt someone close, closer than he would like and now he had nothing to defend himself. Still running, even at a slower speed, 'cause he still needed to breath, he looked around searching: somewhere to hide or something to use a weapon, when suddenly:

"Jaskier?"

His body froze. His legs refused to work and it's as if everything around his dropped 10 degrees in temperature. The adrenaline in his body not knowing whether it's still in his veins or not.

He knew that voice.

Shit. He _knew_ that voice.

Destiny really hated him? Of all the nights he wished Geralt would just show up, that they would meet by chance, did it have to be tonight?

Jaskier's eyes widened, the initial shock of the reunion passing and he realized.

He heard.

"Geralt?" he replied hopefully, but didn't know whether it was in a whisper or an exclamation.

Why?

Why couldn't he hear his own voice if he heard Geralt's?

“Jaskier” a figure approached him, but this time the bard felt no need to flee. Geralt stood in front of him, the light of the moon and the weak, single lamp on the street reflecting on him.

Destiny really hated him. Geralt was as magnificent as ever, if not moreso with the rays of moonlight matching his hair and his eyes practically shining, and Jaskier sure looked as exhausted and battered as he felt.

"Why are you bleeding?"

He was?

Oh, he was. One punch had opened a wound on his lower lip, but he was too busy breaking someone's nose to notice.

"I'm fine" he said and instantly winced. 

Why did the Witcher look tense?

Oh yeah, he's a shit-shoveller or whatever, but Jaskier knew that Geralt will offer him some help, damn this man's nobility, could this be the one time he decides not to get involved, please?

"What happened?"

Obviously the answer would be no.

Jaskier shrugged.

"A fight."

"You have to clean the wound." He looked uncomfortable and it was starting to annoy the bard.

 _A pleasant evening_. _That's all I wanted_. He shrugged again, ignoring the Witcher and walking again.

"Jaskier." he called, voice deep as if in a warning "Won't you tell me what happened?"

"You don't care" he continued walking without looking back, Geralt started walking behind him.

"Jaskier" he called again, but now it sounded more like a growl "Why are you reeking magic?"

Jaskier was the one who snarled.

He turned to face the Witcher and could feel his blood boiling, he couldn't take it anymore.

“Listen, Witcher, listen well since I can't” he approached Geralt and can swear he saw him flinch a little “You made it clear that you have nothing more to do with me, in fact, if I remember well, your wish was for life to take me off your hands, so congratulations, Geralt!” he laughed and knew he sounded a little hysterical "I'm out of your life now and I intend things to stay that way."

He took a deep breath, suddenly exhausted.

"What do you mean you can't?"

Obviously, that would be the part he would pay attention to.

"It doesn't matter to you" he turned away from the Witcher and intended to walk again, but Geralt grabbed him by the wrist.

He swung his arm harder than he intended, trying to break free.

"Jaskier" if he heard his name in that tone again Geralt would be the next victim of his dagger.

“What do you want, Geralt? Wasn't it enough what you said on the mountain?” he practically spat out the words, still refusing to look at the Witcher “Wasn't it enough to break and step on my heart the way you did? Do you want to see me suffer? Cry? What the _fuck do you want?”_

"I'm sorry." It was so fast and sudden that Jaskier for a minute thought he was hallucinating.

"Excuse me. _What?”_

"I'm sorry," he repeated, tugging the bard's wrist slightly in a request to look at him. Jaskier knew he was frowning in a mixture of anger and surprise as he looked at the Witcher.

At least Geralt looked genuinely guilty.

“I’m sorry” he said again, but it didn’t make it look less like a hallucination “What I said... I was angry and I took it out on you, I knew it would hurt you and thought that if I did that I would feel better.”

"It worked?" he asked in a bitter tone.

"I regretted it the moment I finished saying the words" he pressed his lips, not a moment letting go of the bard's wrist "But I didn't think you would..."

"Leave?"

Geralt grimmaced.

“Did you really think you could say that and I would still follow you like a puppy, Geralt? Is that what you think about me? That I can serve as a punching bag and that's okay?”

"Fuck no, Jaskier" he growled, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath "I thought you would understand, that you would know it wasn't what I meant."

“Geralt, I can't read minds. I know that you're used to companies that have this ability, but I'm not one of them. I understand what you say, not what you thought you meant to say.”

Jaskier had no more patience for this, he spoke more today than in months and it was exhausting, he could almost sympathize with the Witcher.

Geralt made a "hmm" and that just took him one step closer to getting punched.

"Is that all?" the bard asked.

"You forgive me?"

"Yes. yes, I forgive "he waved his hand "Now, is that all?"

"Jaskier." this time the Witcher let out a slightly painful tone, so Jaskier decided to took pity on him.

"And is that going to change anything, Geralt?" he sighed "Why does it matter?"

"Because I care."

Jaskier laughed wryly.

“I am telling the truth, Jaskier. I care, you know that. ”

"I thought I knew that."

“I still care. I'll always care and that's the problem. I wish I could let you go, _make_ you go, but I can't.” Geralt looked at him as if talking about it was more difficult than any contract. "I missed you."

The Witcher tightened his fingers in the grip on the bard's wrist. Jaskier sighed, he had no arguments against it, as much as he wanted to point out every time Geralt abandoned him, times he denied his friendship or insulted him, he couldn't.

The honesty in those golden eyes overflowed and he could see a moment of vulnerability that the Witcher never allowed to be exposed to.

Geralt really missed him.

“Okay” he said quietly, looking away “Okay. I can't be mad at you any longer" he laughs weakly "I forgive you, Geralt."

The Witcher let his shoulders relax.

"I don't deserve this" he started to say and was interrupted.

"Oh, shush, the forgiveness is mine and I do what I want with it." for a moment Jaskier may swear he saw the corner of Geralt's mouth lift.

“As I was saying... I don't deserve it, but I'm selfish enough to want it. So, thank you.”

The bard laughed trying to hide his surprise.

"I thought you didn't want anything." The Witcher shrugged, finally releasing the bard's wrist.

"Things change."

Jaskier nodded and they were silent for a moment.

Geralt was the one who started walking and the bard realized that they're heading towards the same inn.

They walked side by side for a while, still in silence. Jaskier had become accustomed to not filling that type of silence and just feel it, as strange as that was, the curse that took his hearing away was the one that taught him to listen.

It was strange how much the woods "speak" when that all there was to hear.

The breeze, the birds, wolves howling in the distance, all in rhythm, in a song that nobody wrote, 'cause if someone tried it wouldn't be even near as perfect as it's and i always fill his chest with a warm felling and, of course, papers and more papers with poetry in his notebook.

But he had to admit, Geralt's voice was his favorite melody.

"What happened?" The Witcher broke the silence and Jaskier came out of his trance.

“Ah” he waved his hand like it was nothing “Some idiots thought they could beat me up, well, maybe I got hit more than I wanted, but it wasn't me the one with a broken nose and a dagger stuck in the thigh.”

Geralt narrowed his eyes, but preferred to leave that conversation for later.

"I'm talking about the magic." Jaskier pressed his lips together.

“A sorcerer cursed me two months ago, I can't hear” he saw Geralt frowning “I can technically hear, but not voices, or footsteps, or heartbeat. Noises that people make.”

The Witcher nodded, still with the same expression.

"Including my voice."

Geralt's eyes widened a little.

"How you sing?"

Jaskier sighed heavily.

"I don't."

He heard the Witcher growl for a moment, before looking at him with a surprised face.

"How do you answer everything I ask so easily?"

"I can hear your voice."

"Why?"

"I dont know."

They arrived in front of the inn, hopefully it wasn't too late in the night and the door wasn't locked. Geralt seemed to be solving dozens of puzzles in his head.

“Your voice was the first I heard in two months, Geralt” he continued “And until today I haven't spoken more than one sentence, so if you'll excuse me, I just want to go to my room and sleep.”

"We have to find a way to fix this." Jaskier rolled his eyes, obviously he's going to be ignored. Again.

"I tried, Geralt, but the sorcerers charge a fortune to undo such a curse, I don't have that money and I know you well to know that you don't either."

He let out a grunt, starting to pace near the door and Jaskier pressed his fingers to his temples.

Geralt finally stopped, clearly with an idea.

"Yen."

Suddenly hitting his head on the wall until he passed out seemed like a good idea.

"Oh no! No, no, no” he started walking, finally entering the inn, there was no one there to greet him.

"Jaskier, she can fix it."

"At what price? My soul, perhaps?” he tried to quicken his pace, but Geralt was quickly beside him.

"Do you prefer to remain cursed?"

"I prefer not to have to choose between the fire and the frying pan, thank you very much." He took his key out of his pocket, trying to open the bedroom door as soon as possible. He also tried to close the door on the Witcher's face, but failed, Geralt came into the room like a storm.

"I talked to her. We're good."

"Of course you found her before you found me" he said quietly, without meaning to.

"I wasn't looking for her, but I was looking for you."

The bard closed his eyes sitting on the bed. Surprisingly, Geralt knelt in front of him, holding one of his hands.

 _He's only doing this because he wants to convince you, calm down_ , he thought.

“Jaskier, look at me,” he did, looking up at the sea of gold “I can see that you're not doing well. You look... different. And you said you haven't been singing, all you do is sing, that's who you are.”

"I know, I know, Geralt, but things always end up bad for me when she shows up."

"She saved you from the djinn."

"You left after the djinn."

Geralt shook his head, looking for something to say and failing.

"In fact" the bard continued "How are we going to find her?"

“The bond. If I ask for help, she'll know where I am.” Jaskier laughed without emotion.

"I bet she'll love to waste her precious time with someone like me."

Geralt did not seem very pleased with the tone of voice that Jaskier used at the end of the sentence. "You're still bleeding" he said.

Jaskier just nodded and tried to put a hand to his face, but Geralt was faster. He caressed below the bard's lower lip slowly, realizing that the spot was slightly swollen, before getting up in search of a cloth. Jaskier just watched, confused, the sensation of fingers on his skin tingling.

Geralt found some cloths - and picked up the clean one - next to a bucket of cold water that the bard used earlier to clean up, since he expected to have company at night. He lightly dipped the cloth and went back to kneel in front of Jaskier.

The touch of cold water and rough fabric on the bruise stinged, but he had felt worse.

"Why did they do that?" Geralt asked as he gently cleaned the blood.

"Apparently they don't like someone who's different" the way he spoke must have sounded funny, considering he couldn't move his lips properly because of the cloth.

"'Cause you're cursed?" Geralt held his chin with the fingers of his free hand, tilting his head slightly.

"They don't care if it's a curse or if I was born this way, deaf, blind, mute, anything that isn't normal in their eyes is enough to be hated."

The Witcher nodded.

"I'm sorry that you had to go through this for so long," the bard said, but it wasn't pity, it was concern, a demonstration that he cared deeply.

"Don't be sorry, we learned early that this would happen."

Geralt finished wiping his lips and chin, lowering his hands and looking deeply into Jaskier's eyes.

"But it's not fair." Jaskier whispered.

"Life is not fair, we just have to learn to deal with it."

The bard grunted dissatisfied.

"You deserve more. You deserve to be seen for who you really are, not for what they think you're. ”

"And what do you think I am?" Geralt asked quietly.

“You are kind, Geralt. And as much as I doubted it for a while, I know you care, in fact that was what made me so angry, 'cause you care even if the person doesn't deserve it, you wouldn't leave someone who needs help alone. Of all the people I've ever met, you've the biggest heart and I know you won't believe this, but it's the truth and I'll defend it with my own life.”

Geralt shook his head, looking away.

“I hurt people, Jaskier. I hurted you."

"But you regreted it" It wasn't a question, but he nodded.

"It already makes you better than many men."

"I don't deserve you" he whispered, and there it was, that vulnerable tone that Jaskier didn't know how to deal with.

"Maybe, but I chose you, Geralt. That is all what matters.”

They looked at each other for a few seconds, looks that said nothing and everything, that had memories of the past and hope for the future. Looks of nervousness and longing.

Geralt was the one who moved first, as gently as possible, joined his lips to Jaskier's, pulling them gently, while one hand intertwined with the bard's and the other rested on his thigh.

"What was that?" Jaskier asked when the Witcher minimally moved away, searching for his eyes.

"I kissed you."

"Oh really? I didn't realize" the bard said ironically "I want to know why."

Geralt frowned.

"Because I wanted to...?" he didn’t seem quite sure of the answer “I’m sorry. I- I thought you...”

"Oh no, no, no!" he gripped the Witcher's hand "You know I want this, it's impossible not to know."

"Why's impossible?"

Jaskier snorts.

“Geralt, come on, you must have figured it out somehow. I don't know, can't you smell that on me with your witcher-y senses? ”

The corner of Geralt's mouth lifted slightly.

"Kinda of" he shrugged "But I didn't think it was because of me."

"You're an idiot. There's only you, Roach and me in the forest, what could it be if not you? ”

"I don't know, maybe you just liked the forest?"

"Ah yes!" he moved his free hand in a theatrical gesture "I’m horny for trees."

And Geralt laughed, a low, hoarse sound and, gods, how Jaskier missed that sound.

"So not for trees, but for me?" Jaskier pressed his lips together and Geralt frowned "What?"

"It’s..." he was nervous, it might not be the best idea to say that now, but it was even worse for the Witcher to see it as a one-night stand "It’s more than... just lust."

Geralt blinked in astonishment, realizing the meaning behind the words.

"It’s..." he said in a way that looked breathless "More?"

"Much more."

Geralt whined. He really whined. As if it physically hurt.

“Geralt” Jaskier closed his eyes, the exhaustion he felt earlier suddenly coming back to shake his bones “I don't ask you for anything in return, I never asked you and I'm not going to do that now. It was good, traveling with you and that was enough-“

"Jaskier" he called, he could hear an unusual hurt in his voice "What do you mean _was?"_

The bard opened his eyes and Geralt looked terrified, he had never seen such an open expression on the Witcher's face and that made it even more difficult. "I'll understand if you don't want me to travel with you again..." he said and could _feel_ his voice had trembled.

“Don’t” The Witcher moved even closer, taking both Jaskier's hands with his own, intertwining them in front of his face, close to his lips. "Don't say that. Jaskier, I want you by my side, I don't know what to do and I don't know if I deserve it. You. But, fuck, I want to try.”

He kissed the back of the bard's hand. "I want you by my side, please don't leave again."

This time it was Jaskier who started the kiss, much less delicate than the previous one, letting go of his hands and bringing his own to Geralt's face.

Geralt wrapped his arms around the bard's waist, pushing himself off the floor and throwing them both on the bed. Jaskier laughed between the kiss and then immediately made a small sound of pain, the bruise on his lips had been stretched.

"Sorry" The witcher said, kissing the corner of his mouth "I forgot."

“Fret not, dear heart” he gave Geralt a peck “Now kiss me again.”

The Witcher smiled, a full smile and Jaskier felt something inside him melt. This time the kiss was slower, taking proper care of the bard's bruised lips, but Geralt made up for it by biting down Jaskier's jaw and neck, pulling out small gasps from him.

The Witcher slid his hand down the side of the bard's body, making him shiver and Jaskier realized that they're wearing too many clothes.

 _"Off"_ he said, pulling Geralt's shirt up.

"Are you sure you're not too hurt or tired for that?" he said as he kissed his neck. Jaskier laughed.

"I'm sure. Now take it off. ”

Geralt smirked, but obeyed, walking away and undressing. Jaskier did not even wait for him to toss the shirt aside before running his hands over his chest.

"Fuck" he said and knew it had been a whisper, biting his lip.

The Witcher raised an eyebrow, amused.

"Don't look at me like that, you know how gorgeous you're." Geralt huffs, approaching again and claiming the bard's lips for himself.

He didn't have to ask the bard to take his clothes off, Jaskier was impatient enough for both of them. Geralt helped him with the task of removing his doublet and, honestly, he didn't care which part of the room the clothes ended up in, not when Geralt lowered his lips across his chest, going directly to his nipple and nibbling lightly and he felt a shock down his spine. He twined his fingers in the Witcher's hair, without pressing or directing, just feeling.

Geralt seemed to have in mind what he wanted to do. With one hand he pulled the bard's trousers down, the other sliding the side of his body, while kissing open-mouthed above his navel.

Jaskier wanted to do something instead of just lying there and feel, but he couldn't, see Geralt looking at him as he lowered his face even more, took his breath away. All he managed to do was lift his hips so the Witcher could get rid of his trousers.

And suddenly he was there, lying on the bed, naked, Geralt looking at him predatorily, with dilated pupils and a very explicit bulge in his very tight pants. Maybe Jaskier moaned at the sight.

Probably yes, because a wolfish smile spread across Geralt's face before he got right between the bard's legs and without warning licked a straight strip from the base to the tip of his cock. The wave of pleasure that went through his body was enough to make him tremble, but Geralt didn't give him time to get used to the sensation, repeating it and moving his tongue round the tip.

Jaskier gripped the sheet under him tightly, trying hard not to close his eyes when he finally felt the heat of the Witcher's mouth around him. Geralt knew what he was doing, the way he tilted his head, sucked, moved his tongue, lowered his mouth as far as he could to take it all...

Jaskier could feel the vibrations in his throat, but he had no idea whether or not he was being loud.

"Geralt" he must have whined.

"So fucking beautiful" he heard Geralt groan before sucking on the tip and Jaskier let out a sob.

Suddenly, the Witcher pulled his legs over his shoulder and the view was incredible, Geralt lying between his legs, his face close to his ass, bringing his hands to each cheek and spreading.

And gods, he's going to...

Jaskier could see his own chest rising and falling fast, he was panting, he couldn't remember how to breathe properly, not when Geralt used his tongue like that, licking in circles around his hole, putting the least amount of pressure and teasing to penetrate.

He brought a hand to his mouth, biting to muffle his moans at the same moment he felt the tip of his tongue slowly getting inside. But that made Geralt stop, moving his face away and Jaskier wanted to protest and probably would, if the Witcher didn't look so breathless and gorgeous.

"Don’t" he said referring to the hand on his mouth "I want to hear you."

Jaskier whimpered again, without having time to prepare, Geralt squeezed his ass and penetrated his tongue in a thrust.

He got lost in the sensations. One of the things Jaskier liked most about sex was being eaten just like that, as if his partner was delighted with him and, gods, Geralt was moaning in approval, sending vibrations all over his body as if he's hungry and Jaskier was a feast.

"Geralt!" he probably moaned too loudly when he felt the Witcher's index finger caress around his hole - still being penetrated by a very enthusiastic tongue.

Geralt stopped and he was a mess, saliva glistening on his chin and the gold in his eyes being swallowed almost entirely by his pupils.

"Oil. Do you have oil? ” his voice was much more hoarse, as if control was escaping him within every second.

Jaskier nodded.

"In my bag."

Geralt didn't even hesitate, got up and went straight to the bard's bag, later Jaskier would argue with him for messing up all the contents before getting the oil.

The Witcher stopped in front of the bed, enjoying the view, Jaskier took the liberty of sliding his thumb over the tip of his cock while watching Geralt walk with a beautiful - kinda intimidating - bulge in his trousers.

And they're kissing again, intense and desperate and fuck who cares about the bruise on his lips, Jaskier wanted to explore every corner of Geralt's mouth. He felt the Witcher position himself between his legs and crossed them around Geralt's waist, making him groan at the contact of his ass with the front of the leather pants.

“You are still dressed. Take it off” he ordered, but only received a grin between the kiss in response.

Geralt covered his fingers with oil and, of course he chose chamomile, Jaskier would laugh at that if the sounds weren't getting stuck in his throat as a finger slowly slid inside him.

And that was good, after months of feeling only his own fingers, yes, that was _good._ Geralt started careful and, if his concern wasn't adorable, Jaskier would have complained, 'cause he wanted more. 

So much more.

"Geralt..." he groaned, controlling himself not to start pleading, not now, it's only the beginning.

The Witcher smirk and crook his finger _just right._

Jaskier's hips jerked hard, but Geralt held him tight with his free hand, now doing everything he could to not touch the bundle of nerves that made the bard feel like a lightning was running through his veins.

“Fuck, Geralt. I promise for all that is sacred, if you don't give me more right now, the next time I stab someone, that someone will be you.”

The Witcher laughed, moving his finger slowly.

"Kinky."

"Gods, I hate you"

Jaskier tilted his head back, but the Witcher took pity on him, pressing hard that spot just once before starting to slide another finger. Jaskier whimpered, his legs trembling around the Witcher's waist, Geralt managed to hit his prostate with precision, scissoring, and thrusting his fingers while caressing and squeezing the bard's thigh.

"If you could see" Geralt growled, watching his fingers being swallowed, the hole clenching around them "How well you take my fingers."

Jaskier closed his eyes, biting his lips and letting a broken sound escape his throat, at least that's how it felt to him.

"Geralt, please" he asked, his knuckles turning white with how hard he held onto the sheets, Geralt slid a third finger and he felt his whole body tremble, he clenched hard.

“Gorgeous” the Witcher groaned “So fucking good, Jaskier, fuck, I missed you.”

Jaskier knew that something like _"yes, yes, please"_ escaped his lips, but he wasn't sure and couldn't focus on that at the moment, not with Geralt's fingers stretching him so good.

He wanted more.

He _needed_ more.

“Geralt! Ah- Fuck me, please! ”

The Witcher's moan was so low that it felt like thunder in his body. He removed his fingers from inside Jaskier quickly, pulling his hips closer without much delicacy, the bard took the opportunity to tighten his grip around the waist.

Geralt pulled his pants down just enough to get his dick free and, fuck, he was big. Jaskier couldn't wait to feel himself being stretched, open, and he knew he had moaned at the idea.

The Witcher brushed the tip in his hole, teasing, but Jaskier could clearly see that he was also desperate for it.

The feeling of being penetrated by Geralt was the best Jaskier has ever felt, maybe it was because of all years thinking about it, or the fact that Geralt was just the right width to be between _perfect_ and _too much_ , or - more likely - the fact that he was the one Jaskier truly love.

When he felt the whole lenght inside him, it was like his body was burning, melting, he pulled Geralt into an intense kiss. Breathless and unable to keep his eyes open for a long time, he went with his hips back, grinding, clenching tight around the cock causing Geralt to groan as if it was punched out of him.

He whispered Jaskier's name, moving forward, going even deeper and pressing the bard's dick between the two bodies.

When he started to move, Jaskier lost his coherence and composure.

Initially slow, Geralt testing his strength and carefully observing each response that Jaskier gave him, but little by little the control escaped him, moving faster, shoving his hips forward in sharp thrusts as he bit and licked the exposed skin in front of him, until Jaskier was being fucked hard, without a break between thrusts, in a rhythm that made his legs weak. He couldn't hear himself, but his throat hurt and Geralt confirmed to him that, indeed, no sound was being repressed.

"Fuck, Jaskier" he said between moans without stopping the movement of his hips. "The noises you make."

He lift his weight, hitting Jaskier's sweet spot and the bard felt his eyes roll with pleasure.

“I missed you so much, Jaskier” Geralt whispered in his ear, hoarse voice making Jaskier shivering “I missed your voice. I missed your singing. I never thought that the silence would be so fucking terrible.”

"Geralt!" he felt the name slip through his mouth, he's so close, so close. He could count on one hand the times he came untouched, but of course Geralt would be able to do that to him in their first time.

"So fucking good around me, singing just for me" the thrusts were unrhythmic now, Geralt was close too. "Come for me, Jaskier."

Oh, he did.

Jaskier closed his eyes, his toes curling as he gripped the Witcher's shoulder firmly, leaving fingernail marks on the skin, he felt the sensations rise through his body like waves, every part of him screaming with pleasure, clenching tight around Geralt, hearing him moan loudly.

The Witcher pull out and just needed a few more strokes before coming on Jaskier's ass, panting hard.

"Fuck" Jaskier said, smiling and closing his eyes, feeling every muscle in his body relax as his heart slowed.

"Hm" Geralt replied, taking a deep breath and then getting out of bed, he moved more slowly, clearly as exhausted as the bard, and took a wet cloth to clean up the mess they both made on Jaskier.

"Cold" the bard complained while the evidence of his pleasure was wiped off his stomach, the Witcher just smiled, now wiping the cloth over Jaskier's ass, seeing him squirming a little.

That done, he threw the cloth away - ignoring Jaskier's protest that the bucket was _right there_ \- and lay down beside him on the bed. The bard turned to face him and Geralt didn't hesitate to pull him close, putting his arms around him.

"Sleep" he said hoarsely and Jaskier gladly obeyed.

He wakes up to a loud noise and the windows opening wide.

"Were you looking for me?" a voice said and he knew who it was long before he could make out the blur his sleepy eyes saw.

"Yen?" Geralt raised his head, still cuddling him and very, very, naked.

Oh, gods, he's naked too.

In front of fucking _Yennefer of Vengerberg._

She looked at them unimpressed.

"It took you long enough, uh?" she raised an eyebrow.

Thank heavens, Geralt pulled a sheet from the edge of the bed to cover them.

"Well," she said, crossing her arms, "I'm wasting my time here, so can you tell me what you need me for?"

Jaskier frowned and then remembered the conversation from the night before. His eyes widened and he almost jumped out of bed - thankfully Geralt held him 'cause he was still naked.

"I can hear her!" he exclaimed and, _sweet Melitele_ "I can hear myself!"

Yennefer rolled his eyes.

"Of course, you can hear yourself, bard, you wouldn't stop talking even if your life depended on it." He ignored it, still very delighted that the curse was over.

"He couldn't" Geralt explained, a small smile on his face at seeing the bard so happy "Cursed."

"So you were the idiot who went after several sorcerers to reverse a curse that wouldn't let you speak?"

"Hear" he corrected and she waved her hand as if to say _"I don't care"._

"I see then that you broke it the easiest way" Yennefer smirked, pointing at Geralt. They both frowned and the sorceress sighed.

“The curse is broken if the person who most miss hearing your voice confess it to you” she explained “It's a cruel curse, _'if I can't hear you, then you won't be able to hear anyone else'_ normally the confession doesn't happen 'cause the one who cursed is the one who can break it; it's about betrayal, broken hearts, things like that.”

She moved her hand quickly, opening a portal.

"I've already wasted much of my precious time here, enjoy your afternoon" she pointed to the bodies wrapped in the sheet, a smug smile on his face, before disappearing without waiting for an answer.

The silence lasted exactly 15 seconds.

"Did you miss me that much?" Jaskier smirks and the Witcher grunted, rolling his eyes.

The bard laid his body over Geralt's, still smiling.

"I'll write a ballad about it and it'll be the best thing this continent has ever heard, just watch it."

"Please, don’t" he replied, but Jaskier didn't take it seriously, he could see his Witcher smiling.

**Author's Note:**

> ♡ if you enjoy my work, toss a coin to your writer, please, links are on my twitter ☕️ thank you ♡  
> [ ♡ twitter ♡ ](http://twitter.com/sorcererjaskier)


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